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My Kantele

Truly they lie, they talk utter nonsense

Who say that music reckon that the kantele

Was fashioned by God

Out of a great pike's shoulders

From a water dog's hooked bones

It was made from the griefIts belly out of hard days

Its soundboard from endless woes

Its strings gathered from torments

And its pegs from other ills

Truly they lie, they talk utter nonsenseIts belly out of hard days

Its soundboard from endless woes

Its strings gathered from torments

And its pegs from other ills

Truly they lie, they talk utter nonsenseSo it will not play, will not rejoice at all

Music will not play to please

Give off the right sort of joy

For it was fashioned from cares

Moulded from sorrow

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